


Cinnamon, Saffron and Clove

by Solrosfalt



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Annette Being the Sweetie She Is, Auroras, Brief Pre-Timeskip, Detailed Descriptions of Winter, F/F, Fluff, Marianne Realizing her Self-Worth, Mentions of Sadness but Mostly Soft, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip, Snow, Winter Market
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/pseuds/Solrosfalt
Summary: Above her, the soft curly gray had begun to release large chips of white. Flakes that descended to join with the frost on the ground and settled on the tips of Annette’s curls.Marianne smiled. “Snow”, she said.“Yeah.” Annette beamed up at the skies. “Snow.”Maybe their thoughts were the same. Marianne hoped they were.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Marianne von Edmund
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17
Collections: Fire Emblem Rare Pair Christmas Exchange 2019





	Cinnamon, Saffron and Clove

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glory_of_bygone_days](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glory_of_bygone_days/gifts).



> Written for @glory_of_bygone_days for the Fire Emblem Rarepair Christmas Exchange!

When the Goddess laid her head to rest, the feathers from her pillow rained down from the skies. They were cold, but pure. Everything had to be pure in the realm of the Goddess. The stained glass, the marble statues, the golden arcs, all made by mortals to honor Her; it couldn’t hold a candle to the radiant truth of the Goddess’ gentle home. Marianne was absolutely sure of that. Something she’d probably never tell anyone.

Marianne had switched classes in the hopes of finding a light, finding a place where her voice didn’t tremble and her unwanted thoughts didn’t cram into her head. The Blue Lions had been the only reasonable choice because their professor was calm and firm, and didn’t tell Marianne to ‘ _lighten up_ ’ the way Manuela did in the Golden Deer or pressure her about her crest the way Hanneman did in the Black Eagles.

Plus, the Blue Lions were all nice… Maybe _too_ nice. Marianne had already changed classes and it was too late to switch back, but she was terrified where this would lead. Her new classmates were all warm and welcoming and Marianne would ruin them, her curse would spread over to them all because she'd been selfish enough to believe she could ever—

“Woah, Marianne, _snow_!”

The shrill voice cut through Marianne’s gray thoughts like a bolt of lightning, and she jolted upwards, her hands digging into Dorte’s mane.

Annette was doing stable duty today. She always had a full schedule, and somehow a lot of it collided with whatever Marianne was doing. Those coincidences happened surprisingly often, given that there always was something distracting Annette from _keeping_ said schedule.

Like now, with the weather being what it was.

Marianne had already seen the puny icy dots swirl in on the straw through the little gaps in the stable’s walls – hence her thoughts about its connection to the Goddess – but now she pretended to notice for the first time.

“Um, yes…” She gave Annette a quick glance so she knew she’d acknowledged her, but nothing more. “…Snow.”

“Have you ever seen it before, Marianne?” Annette’s smile was wide, her eyes eager and inviting to further conversation.

Marianne knew those eyes. Many of her peers looked at her just like that; trying so hard to get Marianne to understand their topics, make room for her in their debates, awaken her from her slumbering invisibility.

Yet despite her extensive experiences, Marianne never knew how to respond. Her peers didn't realize she _wanted_ to be invisible for their sake _._ Sometimes they gave up if she responded simply and shortly. She might as well try that with Annette.

“Yes… I have.” She swallowed. “The Edmund territory is… um… quite far north.”

“Right!” Annette waved her finger in the air like she was imagining a map. “It’s not further south than Blaiddyd? A little, maybe? Sorry, I’m not the best at Alliance geography, but key point is, you know snow! And I do too! Small world, right?”

“R-right”, Marianne responded, her hand tracing Dorte’s nuzzle. She wasn’t quite sure what Annette was actually saying, but the sheer will that radiated from her when she reached out through socializing was absolutely something Marianne understood, and it was almost unbearable.

 _Why_ did people try to talk to her?

“I don’t think the snow's going to stay on the ground”, Annette continued, her eyes set upon the dancing dots of white, her wheelbarrow completely forgotten. “Pegasus Moon in Fhirdiad always means you’ve got to at least wade through knee-deep if you’re going anywhere off the road. It’s nice to be able to move freely here in the monastery I suppose, but I don’t mind doing a bit of shoveling. When I studied at the Royal School of Sorcery we used fire magic to pave the roads!”

Marianne’s thoughts crowded her. This was too much, too close. She could say she had to go, but they had stable duty together, and it wouldn’t look right. Perhaps she could tell her she was sick? …Again. No, that wouldn’t work—

“Do you celebrate Aurora Rise in the Alliance, too?”

Marianne let her hand fall, her head tilted in Annette’s direction. Her mind sometimes forgot the necessity of its shackles; she couldn’t always stop being curious. 

“Aurora… Rising?”

Annette’s eyes glittered at her success, and that reminded Marianne she should actually back off, she couldn’t make _friends_ —

“Aurora Rise! When the sky lights up in pink and green and dances for you – it’s the Goddess’ spirits that’s only visible when the season’s at its darkest! Or that’s how the story goes, anyway. They’re said to bring blessings throughout the entirety of Pegasus Moon, and really they’re just stories but it makes the dark of winter really fun!”

“Oh”, Marianne said. She tried to sound disinterested, but failed. Annette’s excited eyes and clutched hands... It was _comfortable_. Some of the tension had let off Marianne’s shoulders without her noticing, and that frightened her. If she kept going like this, she'd forget herself and start enjoying the company. 

“Fhirdiad has a lot of evergreen trees”, Annette kept explaining, oblivious to the dark thoughts that spiraled within Marianne. “So we use those to decorate the streets, along with torches and magical stars… Kids put out their shoes at their door because one of the Goddess’ spirits is said to put presents inside the shoe of every good child they see— oh, and its extra luck if you wear a wreath of moss or blueberry on your head, with some candles in there if you can afford it. There’s another spirit that’s said to love singing, so there’s a lot of that too! My favorite part was always the _market_ , though! It’s so _big_ , and it has every pastry you can think of!”

Annette paused and exhaled in a small laugh, her red pigtails bopping with her shoulders as she chuckled.

“Aw... I’m missing home, I think. Sorry.”

“N-no need", Marianne stammered. "That’s… all right.”

“I can’t believe you don’t have that in Edmund”, Annette continued, once again with a beaming smile. “That’s how you make winter less depressing!”

That was probably impossible, in Marianne’s opinion, but she didn’t say so. She watched the dots of snow as they found the wooden floor of the stable. Just as Annette had predicted, they melted pretty much immediately.

Marianne had to agree that snow was much prettier when it stayed on the ground. Marianne didn’t miss home at all, but the purity of icicles and the haunting sight of white stillness wherever she looked… that she _did_ long for.

“It sounds very pretty”, she said.

Annette gasped at the novelty of a full response.

“I _know_ ”, she said. “Hey, here's an idea! You could bring some of that tradition over to the Alliance! Come visit Fhirdiad after we’ve graduated, okay? You can live at my house, we can go through town together—it would be so fun!”

Marianne reminded herself that her future was a bleak nothing, but another part of her carefully pondered the concept. Lights sparked in thick snow... A whole town celebrating a rare natural phenomenon... She found she actually wanted to see that.

“All right”, Marianne said, and a smile appeared on her face before she could shut it down.

Annette gasped again, then clutched her hands even harder. “Okay! It’s a date! Rinse your calendar, make space for Aurora Rise! And Marianne, you can leave early today if you want to. I can do the stable duty by myself, you just rest up! Talk to you tomorrow!”

She beamed at her, and thundered away with her wheelbarrow.

Then came a loud thud, and a high-pitched cry.

“Gah— _Why_ ’s the wall so much to the left—? Ugh!”

Marianne had anticipated the crash before it happened and simply sighed into Dorte’s mane. She hadn't noticed her smile had remained on her face.

*-*-*-*

Marianne's blue dress melted into the frost around her as she sat down on the ruined porch of Garreg Mach. A strand of her hair fell into her vision as she bent her head, and her fingers worked quickly to put it back in her braided crown.

She wasn’t sure how, because the last five years hadn’t made much sense, but she’d _returned_. Once again she sat quietly behind monastery walls, and despite the conflicts all around her, her heart wasn’t as afraid as it used to be.

She looked up. The sky was grey, but it was a pretty kind of grey, one that held the softness of a duvet put over their world to keep them warm.

“Mari- _anne_!”

She hadn’t realized to whom the voice belonged to at first, but as she saw a figure dash over the dormitory alleyway to reach her (and nearly slipping at least twice on the way), Marianne recognized her with a surge of her heart.

“You’re here too!” Annette cried out and skidded to a stop in front of her. “That’s amazing! Oh, it’s so good to _see_ you again!”

Annette clasped her hands beneath her chin. She’d grown taller, but that hand-clasping habit of hers was just how it used to be back when she was a child. Her eyes glittered the same way too, as though it was just yesterday Annette had made sure to keep Marianne company during dinners or assignments.

“I love what you’ve done to your hair”, Annette said and leaned forward to follow the braid all around Marianne’s head. “That’s incredible, wow, Marianne, you’ve gotten real good at that! Teach me sometime, will you?”

Marianne nodded, and laughed. No more than a chuckle into her hand, but Annette absolutely radiated excitement at the sight.

“I'd love to”, Marianne answered her. "Although I think you're pretty enough as is."

“Aw”, Annette chuckled and pulled a hand through her loosely hanging hair. "Thanks."

“Sorry for not keeping in touch”, Marianne smiled at her. Conversation flowed naturally for her these days, and she was so glad she could finally show it to one of the people she'd missed the most these five years. 

“No, yeah", Annette shrugged and cleared her throat. "I’m saying the same… It’s been difficult with wars and stuff, right?”

“It has”, Marianne agreed. “But I thought of you a lot. I’m glad I got to see you again.”

“Aw”, Annette answered again. Her cheeks glowed slightly red.

Above them, the soft curly gray had begun to release large chips of white. Flakes that descended to join with the frost on the ground, and settle on the tips of Annette’s curls.

Marianne smiled. “Snow”, she said.

“Yeah”, Annette beamed up at the skies. “Snow.”

Maybe their thoughts were the same. Marianne hoped they were.

*-*-*-*

Winter made life small and muffled, yet it also withheld an enticing sense of eternity.

The cold made everything it touched its kingdom. Beyond borders determined by mortal hands, winter stretched on and on. The endless rows of fir trees shifted from green to white, the yellowed birch leaves frozen into ice sculptures still on their branches, turned the mountains into swirls of soft black and harsh gray and shimmering white.

And Fhirdiad was the center of it. Built to welcome the isolating eternity, the city somehow both stood proud and strong, while also bending to winter’s whims like wheat in the wind. The walls held fast against the whirl of blizzards, the thick stone houses small and dense to keep the warmth from escaping, roads built in straight lines to ease the process of shoveling snow… But the roofs were padded with straw, every corner of the streets lined with torches encased in magical ice, every chimney spreading their fumes, much like the breath turning to steam.

Marianne had lived and taught in this city for over six months, but she’d never imagined the transformation to be so effortless and natural. Generations upon generations that had called this their home even through the cruel, bitter cold had perfected the change. Having taught their children how to salt their meats and ferment their fish, how to braid juniper branches to cover the cold floors, how to create and save when there was little to be had. Which trees that had a bark that could be ground into flours, and which could not. How to sew with reindeer felts and how to make buck horns into kitchen utensils.

It was completely different from Fhirdiad in the summer months and even more different from how people managed their winters in Edmund. And once the Pegasus Moon basked the snow in its silver light, everything changed again.

The hourglass on Marianne’s work desk told her it was not long until midday, but daylight was a long-forgotten concept. In her window flickered a soft candle, and from the streets torchlight cast shadows over her mirror.

Marianne didn’t need to braid her hair; she’d wear a knitted cap anyway, but she placed a few strands of her forelocks in a crown, the rest falling down below her lower back. Some of it got stuck in the thick wool of her cloak and dress as she bent forward to adjust her boots, when the door opened and basked the entire room in light.

“Come on”, Annette chirped, her cloak inside out (some things never changed). “We’ve got to go!”

“I thought you said we had no chance of missing it”, Marianne said.

“True, but you’ve still got to savor every moment of it!” Annette pulled on her arm, and Marianne allowed herself to be led through the now familiar halls of the Royal School of Sorcery. Through the walls of stone, the haunting beauty of a soft choir reached them.

_Light of the Goddess  
Blind the Stars, Sooth our Scars  
We Rest Among the Seams of your Winter Dress  
At Home in your Holiness_

Annette pulled at her arm harder with a gasp. “Oh no, this is my favorite”, she complained, dashing past a pair of students who advanced toward the streets in a lot less of a hurry.

Marianne couldn’t stop a giggle. Annette’s excitement bled over to her, _melded_ with her, and her expectations rose by the second.

And yet she couldn’t have expected what met her senses as they entered the main streets.

Fhirdiad was still Fhirdiad, but pressed into the snow were rows upon rows of outdoor candles cast in metal, and between the rooftops were ropes that supported star-shaped ice sculptures, radiating red lights from the circle of fire magic drawn within them. The center square was completely covered and crowded by hundreds of market stands, with protective fabrics of red, green and lavender. The stall-masters used brooms to hit the ceilings of their stalls to whip away the snow that amassed over them, a never-ending job, seeing as the feather-like flakes rained down so thick Annette’s cap was already covered by it.

And in the middle of the square was an ice sculpture so large it dwarfed the houses around it. The sculpture depicted the shape of the Goddess with her hands clasped in prayer and her feathered wings caught the torchlight from every direction like the stained glass of a cathedral. She looked _alive._

On a podium before the sculpture was the choir that was the source of the gentle hymns, their heads covered in wreaths of moss and fresh blueberry leaves. Cloaks made of fir needles were draped over their shoulders. Candles burned in their hands and crowns, reflected in the magnificence of the sculpture behind them.

Marianne had never thought anything could ever hope to imitate the wonder of the Goddess’ own realm. But as she was here, caught in light that softened the most haunting winter darkness and surrounded by the echoes of a soothing hymn, Marianne realized they must be as close as mortally possible.

She was pulled out of her trance by Annette gently swinging her arm and letting out a giggle.

“Never thought I’d see you _gaping_ at anything”, she said and thudded her forehead into Marianne’s upper arm. “Come on, you’re kind of freaking me out, here.”

Marianne closed her mouth, and blinked. Her pulse thudded slowly, relaxed despite the myriad of people around them.

“That’s better”, Annette said and tilted her head with another laugh. “Still daze-y, though. So… I guess this means you like it?”

Marianne laughed in a soft exhale. “Yes. It’s… Is this the same city, I mean? You didn’t warp us to another dimension?”

Annette snorted a laugh. “That’s funny. No, it’s still Fhirdiad. But all that saving and holding back and huddling around the fireplaces just isn’t happening during Aurora Rise! Not a chance! Now it is a haven for shopping and extravagance!” She put her hands on her hips in an adventurous pose, and laughed as she leaned closer to Marianne as if disclosing a secret. “Mostly it’s for buying presents before the “Pegasus Spirit” passes us by and puts gifts into our shoes—which doesn’t actually happen; spoiler, but it’s parents and guardians and friends that put those gifts there. Which reminds me, we’ve gotta go find some small presents for our students! It’s more fun to walk around these markets with some kind of goal.”

Marianne honestly thought she wouldn’t have needed a goal to motivate her; she could have wandered this place until she couldn’t feel her toes and then some more. She followed Annette as she dived into the mass of people, pointing at bouquets made of acorns and dried clove and fir, then at the marzipan pigs standing in rows on top of clean cotton, then the chocolate towers, then the cinnamon buns, then the raisin pastries with saffron glaze—

The smells from the different spices and sweets came together, feeding richness into the crisp air. Separate, but joined.

“It’s the smell of Aurora Rise”, Annette said proudly and breathed deeply through her nose. “It hasn’t been the same these last few years, but now… It's how it used to be.”

Marianne imitated her and breathed deeply. She could feel the taste of saffron on her tongue and the sweet tang of clove settled in her nose like steam. The choir on the podium had begun a new hymn, one where the deep voices hummed to create a harmony while the solo voice carried the melodic words of peace and light.

“Oh!” Annette took a hold of her sleeve again, and gestured toward a market stall where a large woman proudly patted a mead barrel while speaking to her customers. In front of the woman was a giant saucepan that let out a whirl of almost transparent smoke, and once she’d finished speaking to her customer, she poured a mug of the liquid within and gave it to them.

“Warm, spiced lemonade”, Annette explained. “It’s a must-have! Man, my fingers are freezing.”

“Um”, Marianne mumbled hesitantly. “Is everything spicy around Aurora Rise?”

“Pretty much”, Annette grinned. “But don’t worry, it’s a good kind! Even I like it.”

Marianne smiled back at her. “Then it must also be very sweet.”

Annette snorted a laugh as she placed a small tower of coins on the stall table. “You sure know me, Marianne.” Then she beamed up at the woman behind the saucepan. “Two lemonades please, lady Weaver!”

Lady Weaver filled two mugs without much more than a nod, but when her gaze landed on Marianne, she glanced back and forth between her two customers before she smiled and pushed half the coins back at Annette.

“A discount for good luck”, she said with a wink, and Annette’s eyes gleamed of sudden horror.

“Thank you, lady Weaver”, she mumbled quickly, and if Marianne wasn’t mistaken, Annette would have blushed red if her cheeks weren’t already crimson due to the intense cold.

They kept on for a few more stalls, and Marianne sipped on the warm, spiced liquid. The center of her chest welcomed the source of heat, and her senses enjoyed the clash of sweet and spice much more than she’d anticipated. It cooled rather quickly, the transparent steam reached lower and lower until it was barely visible above the edge of the mug, but Marianne had no trouble emptying it before it lost all its warmth.

Annette, on the other hand, savored hers. She'd stopped and stared wistfully at a collection of carved wooden dolls, lifting one with red yarn as hair. The chorus on top of the podium sang of union and family, and that had Annette bend her head.

Marianne put a hand on her shoulder and Annette smiled shakily up at her. She put the doll down. “I miss him sometimes”, she said.

She needn’t explain herself; Marianne already knew. She squeezed her shoulder, and led her away from the stall. Their walk started off solemn, but Annette slowly returned to her former excitement, pointing at everything she wanted Marianne to experience. Some of it was overwhelming, some of it underwhelming, but in this realm of Aurora Rise, everything was still perfect.

Once they reached the podium, Marianne got to see the choir’s incredibly detailed crowns, candles and cloaks, and she fought against the urge to gape at the beauty, to avoid being teased by Annette again.

In front of the podium was a space where groups of children had taken to building snowmen, to varying degrees of success considering it was too cold for the snow to stick. The youngest looked completely defeated and disappointed, as though the beauty and wonder around them meant nothing if they couldn’t have their snowman.

Marianne smiled and raised her hand. The flakes and ice bent to her will, shaped themselves and whirled like autumn leaves in turbulence before they met at the top, grew larger and larger. In its wake, the powdery snow settled into three round shapes stacked on top of each other.

The children gasped, dried off their mittens and touched the magical creation in awe.

“That’s my girl”, Annette giggled and shoved her. “I wish I had an affinity for ice magic too, that way we could be an ice-queen duo. Oh, speaking of ice, let’s go to the _mirrors_!”

Once again Marianne was pulled away, and once again she did not mind.

The “mirrors” were a collective of ice blocks cut and enchanted in different ways to give distorted reflections. One made Marianne look squiggly, one made her face take the shape of a star, another fractioned her into a dozen copies. Annette made faces every time she stood in front of one, and they laughed together before they walked to the next.

The final mirror was just a simple bock that was polished into giving the accurate reflection; as if the designer had wanted for the viewer to be reminded of how they really looked. A nice gesture, Marianne supposed.

They stood before that one the longest. Marianne could really take in the shape of them beside each other.

Herself; alive, tall, with soft blue curls reaching all the way down her back, with a red nose even though her body was covered in thick wool and fur. Annette, reaching to her shoulder with her red hair almost completely hidden beneath a green knitted cap, her cheeks crimson and slightly cracked, her smile beaming. They were leaning onto one another, for warmth and comfort, and perhaps something else, too.

“How are you _so pretty_?” Annette whispered and bopped her head against Marianne’s arm. “Seriously!”

Marianne felt the blush like an ache on her frozen cheeks. She only shook her head.

She’d never imagined herself as pretty. Never imagined anyone would think that of her in the future that had seemed so bleak. But Annette had told her so from the first fateful day Marianne had joined the Blue Lions and entered their dorm room. She’d kept her company during dinners, she’d taken the time to help her study, and after the war, she’d opened her home to Marianne and given her a future and a purpose.

It was all too much, really. Old ghosts told Marianne she wasn’t worth it, she didn’t deserve this. But she merely acknowledged the thought’s existence, recognized its irrationality and rose above it. She'd trained herself to do that for many years, and now it came naturally to her.

She was worth loving. She was worth a life. She was worth being human, and having a friend.

Marianne put her arms around Annette and gently tugged at her to enter the embrace. Annette accepted immediately, but seemed surprised about it.

“Are you cold or something?” she joked, but it was half-hearted. She burrowed her face into Marianne’s wool dress and hugged her back.

“Thank you”, Marianne whispered. “For everything.”

Annette exhaled in a small laugh. “I don’t know what you’re thanking me for, honestly.”

Marianne rested her arms around Annette’s shoulders, looked to the side, searching for a way to explain what was lodged deeply in her heart and was aching to be released with every beat.

But when she looked back at the mirror, she could only draw a sharp breath and turn her gaze to the sky.

“Annette”, she whispered and pointed upward. “…look.”

Annette did as she said, still with one arm lodged around Marianne’s back. Marianne could hear her chuckle.

“Yeah”, she whispered in response. “That’s what we celebrate.”

Marianne understood why. The auroras back in Edmund had been simple; distant lines of occasional green. Here in Fhirdiad, it was completely different. The aurora completely covered the sky. It danced, like a serpent that melted and moved, alongside similar brethren that swayed with such discreet movements it was barely visible to the naked eye. But they moved, as though the sky was breathing.

It couldn’t just be myth that they were spirits. They _had_ to be, because how else would anything look so alive, so true and pure?

“You’re gaping again”, Annette giggled and put her head on her arm.

Marianne didn’t bother to correct herself.

She could stay like this forever if she weren’t a simple human whose fingers were going numb and whose ankles had grown stiff. But Annette was a source of warmth and made it possible to stand still like this for a few more precious minutes.

It would have been a perfect place to kiss, but they didn’t. Marianne was still figuring out if what they were was a close kind of friends; besides, she was too transfixed by the awestriking otherwordly beauty around and above her.

Their first kiss was instead in the summer months, right after Marianne had accidentally frozen a cherry and Annette had leaned forwards and popped it in her mouth. Seemingly without thinking, she’d lingered with her face around Marianne’s.

The rest had just kind of happened.

To the grand amusement of their students, it kept happening until it was clearly established that _yes_ they were walking around the corridors holding hands and _yes_ it meant something other than friendship.

Thus, the second time Marianne went with Annette to the winter market, the situation was different. They stood once more before the mirrors, and like clockwork, the auroras returned.

They kissed then, with none of the novelty but still every bit of belonging and soft passion as before. Except now their breaths tasted like Aurora Rising.

Cinnamon, saffron and clove.

**Author's Note:**

> Am I just going to mash German and Scandinavian Christmas traditions together and put my own experiences with auroras and make it into flowery prose and shove it in a fic with two of my favorite FETH characters? Yes. A hundred times, yes.
> 
> I was so determined to get into a Christmas mood I listened to “Gläns över Sjö och Strand” like 10 00000 times, oops. Here’s the link to that, beware, it’s beautiful: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HwanEltS1vY
> 
> Thank you @glory_of_bygone_days, for this amazing prompt! I loved writing this, I love winter and making a winter-themed fic was long due for me lmao. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
